


aftermath (deleted scenes)

by capriciouslouis



Series: the roommates 'verse [4]
Category: The Flash (TV 2014)
Genre: M/M
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2019-11-28
Updated: 2020-10-17
Packaged: 2021-02-26 05:01:47
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 3
Words: 17,899
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/21598102
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/capriciouslouis/pseuds/capriciouslouis
Summary: some deleted scenes/bonus material from my fic 'aftermath'
Relationships: Barry Allen/Leonard Snart
Series: the roommates 'verse [4]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/561190
Comments: 12
Kudos: 53





	1. safe word

**Author's Note:**

> so as you might know if you read my stuff, for the past however many months i've been posting a monstrously long fanfic called aftermath that is basically a rewrite of the entire first season of the flash, except barry and len are dating from the very beginning. as you can imagine, this makes things complicated af. aftermath is my baby and i'm estimating it'll be over 400k by the time i'm done posting.
> 
> as you know, this fic is LONG. what you probably DIDN'T know is that i actually have almost 40k of extraneous material that has either been omitted, deleted or modified from the fic, and hasn't made it in for various reasons - usually for the sake of length, clarity, or because i'm a hot mess who writes out of order and therefore wrote a bunch of stuff that either didn't make sense or didn't work in some way. these include, in no particular order:
> 
> \- a bunch of sex scenes (this fic already has loads of sex and realistically probably doesn't need any more)  
> \- a modified version of the season 3 killer frost plotline, which i brought into this season before realising it would have made things REALLY complicated if i'd included it (i learned my lesson after including wally, because even that has turned out to be a huge thorn in my side tbh)  
> \- domestic coldflash stuff, usually just lots of banter which was fun to write but didn't add much to the fic 
> 
> anyway, a lovely reader has requested that i post this one deleted scene after we discussed it in the comments, so i have decided to oblige. it's just the one scene for now but i would be happy to post more if there's any interest! i understand the fic is long enough as it is so you're under no obligation to read any of this, it's just bonus content for anyone who's interested :) 
> 
> some of the deleted scenes i post may contradict things that happened in the fic, so don't consider any of this canon - it's a what-if, or what could have been, more than anything else. 
> 
> anyway, shoutout to DireWolf33, this one is for you <3

“What the hell was that?!”

It had been such a peaceful evening up until that point, Len thought ruefully, putting his feet up on the sofa. The heist at the casino had gone like a dream, his share of the money was safely stashed in a seedy apartment he rented on the other side of the city, and he would admit to a certain amount of smugness over how easily he’d played the Flash at his own game. Lisa had given him hell over not shooting the guy, and Mick was surly and uncommunicative even by his standards - it had been an oversight, admittedly, not warning him that Barry might show up. He would rectify that, when he had the time. Lay out some clear boundaries. But tonight he just wanted to relax, congratulate himself over a job well-done and maybe drink some of the ludicrously expensive whisky he’d lifted from behind the bar when he’d first entered the casino. Apparently Barry wasn’t going to make things that easy.

He exploded like a hurricane through the front door, all red cheeks and self-righteous indignation, hair standing on end. Evidently no worse for wear for being shot. Len looked him critically up and down and could see no visible injury, aside from the ones to his pride. Perfect. He knew his gun well enough by now to be able to gauge what was going to seriously injure and what would just cause a surface wound and some mild discomfort, and evidently his estimate had been spot-on. That was gratifying. 

Barry stormed over, came right up in his face, breathing hard. Len raised an eyebrow at him. “Well, hello, dear. Tough day at the office?”  
  
“Don’t,” Barry said furiously. “Don’t you dare make jokes about this. What the hell is wrong with you, Len? We had a deal!”  
  
“Which I stuck to,” Len said coldly. “Remind me which part of ‘don’t kill anyone’ I went back on, because as far as I’m aware, I kept my side of the bargain. Which is more than I can say for you. What happened to staying out of my way, Flash? You told me I had free reign as long as I took murder off the table, and I did.”  
  
“You threatened to melt a guy’s head off!”  
  
“Threatened being the operative word,” snapped Len. “He’s still alive and kicking, isn’t he?”

“That’s not the point, Len! What if Lisa had actually shot him? You had no guarantee she wasn’t going to kill him, you can’t just gamble with people’s lives like that! It’s hard enough for me to convince everyone at S.T.A.R Labs not to have you arrested as it is, without you robbing casinos and putting civilian lives at risk just because you feel like it! What if she killed him?”  
  
“I know how to handle my sister. We made a little bet. Told her and Mick things were getting a little too easy, so I bet them a thousand dollars and a rolex watch that they couldn’t get in and out of that casino without offing anybody. Mick likes money, and Lisa likes to win, so I knew it would take a hell of a lot to make them go back on the deal.”   
  
“Sure didn’t seem like it,” Barry said acerbically.  
  
“If it’s a choice between going back on our deal or getting thrown in jail, none of us are going down without a fight,” Len informed him. “I don’t care how many promises I have to break. There’s no way in hell I’m spending another minute of my life in prison.”  
  
“So why do this?” exploded Barry. “Why steal things, why hurt people? You’re better than that, Len! You’re smart. You could be doing so much more than this. You have the potential to be amazing, but instead you just rob banks and casinos, and for what? Money you don’t even use? We’re still living in this shitty apartment while you hide billions of dollars worth of jewels underneath the bed and clear out the casino, just because you can! What do you even do with it, do you just hoard it? Hide it under the floorboards and forget about it?”  
  
“Who do you think paid your medical bills?” Len asked coldly.  
  
That took him aback. “What?”  
  
“You think you lay in that coma for nine months for free? Newsflash, dear: comas are expensive. The cost came down when we moved you to S.T.A.R Labs, but not by much. Who paid Snow’s salary while she sat by your bed? Who paid for all the equipment they had shipped in to monitor you? Who paid for you to be fed by tube and bathed and flipped over to keep you from getting bedsores? Who paid for you to get resuscitated over and over again that night in the hospital, for the ambulance to take you there in the first place, for the ECGs and the catheters and god knows what else? You think Joe paid for that, on his salary? You think Doctor Wells paid it? He’s pouring all his considerable income into keeping that death trap of a laboratory up and running.   
  
“I paid for your treatment, Barry, all of it. Why do you think Joe never asked too many questions about what I do? He knew damn well I was up to my eyes in shady business from the start, but he turned a blind eye because all that stuff was keeping you on life support, keeping your little heart from giving out. I’m not going to act like keeping you alive was the only reason I got back into business, but it was a damn good motivator. You woke up from that coma fit and healthy and debt-free, and all your friends at the lab can act as high and mighty as they like, but they never cared where I was getting my money as long as it came through okay when I signed the cheque.”

An uncomfortable silence followed. Gritting his teeth, Len went over to the sink and poured himself a drink, the glass clinking against his teeth. He stared out of the window at the city lights, letting them blur out of focus. Truly, he hadn’t meant to pull that card. His ace, and one he’d never intended to use. It wasn’t as if he resented Barry for all the money he’d spent - on the contrary, he considered it a good investment. Way better than another safe house, more modifications on his bike, money poured into overseas schemes or real estate he’d never see, things he’d forget about in time. Barry was worth all the money he’d spent and more, and in all fairness, he never knew what to do with all of it. It was the rush he liked, the actual stealing rather than the payout. 

But he knew that even the thought of all that money - stolen money, no less - being spent on him would make Barry profoundly uncomfortable. Ashamed, even, like some kind of kept boy. And Len had not wanted to make him feel like that, but he also wouldn’t stand for being slated and nagged over something that had benefited Barry so strongly. It was the kind of hypocrisy he couldn’t stand for.

“I… didn’t know that,” Barry said. His voice cracked.  
  
“Yeah, well I didn’t exactly go around shouting about it.” He put his glass on the counter and turned around. "I'm not trying to make you feel guilty, Barry, and don't for a second think you owe me shit. That's not what this is about. Money doesn't matter to me. I'd pay it all again ten times over; you were worth every cent. I'm telling you so you know that whatever it is you think of me, what I did wasn't entirely for my benefit. ...Just eighty, maybe ninety percent."

In spite of himself, Barry cracked a small smile. Victory. Len smiled back, and was about to go over and start kneading some of the tension out of the kid's shoulders when Barry lost the smile, looking at the floor. So it wasn't going to be as easy as that. Well, he'd suspected as much. He folded his arms.

"Spit it out, Scarlet."  
  
"What?"  
  
"Whatever it is you want to say to me. I know there's something; it's written all over your face. Out with it."  
  
"You punched me," Barry said plaintively.  
  
Ugh. Len fought the urge to roll his eyes. Should've known he’d take that personally.

"I did," he said. "How was that?"  
  
Barry flinched like he'd been hit all over again. "Is that all you've got to say about it?"  
  
"Yep," said Len. "Unless you'd like flowers. Chocolates. Maybe an apology card? Dear Flash, sorry for punching you in the face. Lots of love, Captain Cold. XOXO. Get ahold of yourself. So I punched you. How was it?"  
  
Outraged, Barry opened and closed his mouth, then abruptly closed it again. He clenched his jaw. "It hurt, actually."  
  
"I figured," Len said. "Eddie and I taught you how to land a punch, but we clearly didn't teach you how to take one. You went down like a ton of bricks. Poor effort."  
  
"You punched me in the face!" Barry hissed. "Why would you do that?"  
  
"For Christ's sake, use that big brain of yours," Len said irritably. "What was I supposed to do? I had to make it look at least a little plausible. Not that I had any help from you. It's like you were trying to blow cover."  
  
"Blow cover? I was trying not to hurt you!"  
  
"And there lies the problem. You're too soft. We've discussed this, Barry, but I'll say it again: you can't play favourites, or people are going to get suspicious. What do you think is going to happen if you keep kicking the snot out of every crook in the city except for me? You don't think people are going to pick up on that? If you don't treat me like you would any other criminal you come across, people are going to figure out there's a connection between us. And my alter ego is a whole lot more flimsy than yours. It's not going to hold up under scrutiny. If people go digging, they've only gotta scrape the surface of Captain Cold to find Leonard Snart underneath, and once they've found me, they will find you. Your identity is the most valuable thing you have, it's all that keeps you from being hounded on a daily basis. You think you'll ever rest again if people find out you're the Flash? Once that happens, you'll never just be Barry Allen again. That is what I'm trying to protect you from. I think that's worth a little rough and tumble."  
  
"So what the hell are we supposed to do?" demanded Barry.

"We stay out of each other's way," Len said. "And if our paths cross, we do a few rounds, someone crawls away with their tail between their legs, and no one's any the wiser. If it makes you feel better, I'll let you win next time. I'm sure your ego hurts worse than your face."

Defensively, Barry put a hand to his cheek. 

Len moved in closer. Barry took a sharp step back, but Len persisted, reaching out to lay his hand over Barry's, so that they both cupped his cheek. Closing his eyes, Barry breathed out.

"There," Len said. "Doesn't hurt, does it?"  
  
"No," Barry said quietly. Then his green eyes snapped open. "But that... that's not the point. Just because I heal fast doesn't mean it's okay for you to hurt me." He swallowed, pulling away. "You were trying to protect me. I get that. But this is fucked up, Len, surely you can see that. You hit me! I don't see how I'm supposed to just forget about that."  
  
"I didn't."  
  
Barry frowned.  
  
"I didn't hit you," Len clarified. "I hit the Flash."  
  
"There's no difference!"  
  
"That's where you're wrong. There's a whole lot of difference. This is your problem; you need to learn to separate business and pleasure. Us and them. What happened out there wasn't between me and you, it was between Cold and the Flash."  
  
"No," Barry said obstinately. "That's not right. You can't just act like they're different people. They're us. You shot me. You hit me in the face."  
  
"That way of thinking is how things get messy. Trust me, keeping all this separate in your head is the only way to keep from going crazy. When we put those stupid outfits on, we're not us any more. We keep all that separate from me and you. I'm not saying we act like it never happened, like we don't talk about it - but we don't take it personally. It's just business."  
  
"I...I don't know if I can do that."  
  
"You can," Len assured him. "You can do anything you put your mind to. It's gonna take a little getting used to. But you can do it. It's way easier than you realise. Don't tell me the Flash is the exact same as you anyway. When you put on a mask like that, things about you change. Certain things intensify. Personality traits. Am I wrong?"

Barry hesitated, clearly wanting to argue but knowing he hadn’t a leg to stand on. Len folded his arms triumphantly.

“I’ve seen you out there. You’re a show-off. You like playing the hero. Just like I enjoy playing the villain. No harm in that.” He lowered his voice. “You’re making this way more difficult than it needs to be. Don’t overthink it. Just treat Captain Cold like you would any other bad guy, and then come home to me and forget all about it. The rest will take care of itself.”

He took a moment to judge the impact of his words. Barry was wavering. It was written all over his face. Len moved infinitesimally closer. For all the kid liked to consider himself complicated, he wasn’t a difficult nut to crack. All it took were a few gentle words and the right touch here and there and Barry was putty in his hands. And the logic of Len’s argument was undeniable. Sure, it was a little fucked up, but so were they. Nothing new there. 

After a few more moments’ consideration, Barry finally spoke. “Okay, fine, but if we’re going to do this, we need rules. We can’t just go hitting each other at random, I’m not up for that. We need to set boundaries.”  
  
“Sounds fair,” said Len.   
  
“I think we should come up with a code,” said Barry. “Some kind of signal so we know when to stop if we’ve gone too far. Like if one of us hits too hard, or we need a time out.”  
  
Len smirked. “You mean like a safe word?”  
  
“I mean exactly like a safe word,” Barry said seriously. “I’m stronger than I look. If I go too far, I need to know you have some way to stop me. And vice versa. That gun of yours hurts, asshole. I heal fast, but that doesn’t mean you couldn’t do serious damage if you’re not careful.”

Cute, Len thought. But ultimately reasonable. He decided now wasn’t the time for teasing. Barry looked so focused that it would be a poor idea to joke about this.

“So what did you have in mind? Bearing in mind that this is going to have to be a word one of us might actually say without sounding totally out of character. Shouting ‘pineapple’ might be all well and good in the bedroom, but it’s going to seem a little out of context in the middle of a fight.”  
  
“Ouch,” Barry said.   
  
“What? Your ego still a little sore? Need me to kiss it better?” Len leered.  
  
“No,” Barry said. “That’s the word. It’s not something either of us would ever admit to, actually being hurt, but that way we can pass it off as sarcasm in the heat of the moment. Can we agree on that? The second one of us says it, we call a time-out. Take a minute to reassess and figure out whether we can keep going or whether someone needs to back off.”  
  
“Agreed,” Len said. “Although I think you’re being a little excessive.”  
  
“Better to be over-cautious than for us to hurt each other by accident.”

Well, that was true, Len supposed. Maybe he wasn’t being careful enough. In spite of all his own remonstrations about the danger Barry had been putting himself in with other metahumans, he had been remarkably callous about the danger he might be in from Leonard himself. After all, he hadn’t held back. He’d never been on the receiving end of his own gun, but he figured it had to sting a little. 

“That’s true,” he acquiesced. 

Barry still didn’t look happy with the arrangement. He chewed on his lower lip. Len reached out and tugged Barry’s bottom lip with his thumb, giving Barry a small smile.

“You worry too much. You should be celebrating. It’s not often I let you get your own way.”  
  
“If I had my own way, we wouldn’t be doing this at all.”  
  
“Now where would be the fun in that?” Len moved closer, placing his hands on Barry’s waist. He pressed his thumb into the sharp jut of Barry’s hipbone, dipping underneath his jeans to rub over the smooth skin. Barry lowered his head, eyes closed. “Relax,” Len said softly. “You’re going to go grey before I do.”  
  
“It’s a little late for that,” Barry mumbled.


	2. cold gun

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> how cisco decided to create the cold gun.

What?" Cisco said, and then Barry ran at him.   
  
He blurred past, missing Cisco with inches to spare, the breeze he left in his wake ruffling his friend's hair. Cisco twisted, laughably slowly through Barry's eyes, tried to grab him. His fingers closed on empty air and Barry flew right past, stopped on the other side of the lab and grinned.   
  
"You can do better than that," he teased.    
  
Grinning, Cisco got into a ready stance. Wells was watching intently, a small smile on his face. On the other side of the room, Caitlin half expected him to call for order, but he seemed quite happy just to watch.   
  
This time when Barry ran at Cisco, Cisco tried to grab his shirt as he passed. He missed again, and Barry snatched up a cloth from one of the units and twisted it, flicking it around his wrist to turn it into a whip.    
  
This time when he sped towards Cisco, he twisted at the last second and whipped the cloth so that it snapped through the air and stung Cisco on the ass.   
  
"Hey!" Cisco objected.   
  
Barry grinned at him from across the room. "Not so slow now, am I?"   
  
"Oh, it's on," Cisco said, and he scanned the room until he found another, dirtier looking rag. He seized it, waved it dramatically around and then snapped it like a whip. Then, he lunged, aiming for Barry's ass.   
  
Barry dodged him with laughable ease, sprinting to the other side of the room and leaning against the wall like he hadn't a care in the world. He darted up and down the room several times in rapid succession, flicking Cisco's ass with the cloth on every pass, every fresh hit landing before Cisco had finished protesting the one before it. The outrage on his face made even Caitlin smile, as Barry backed off and held his hands up.   


"C'mon, man, are you even trying?"   
  
"No fair!" Cisco said, and he made a half-hearted attempt to throw the rag at him.   
  
It should have fallen short but Barry closed the distance and snatched the rag out of the air before it could even think about touching the floor. Doubly armed, he twisted the second one around his wrist to match, blurred across the room and started flicking Cisco multiple times in succession, so rapidly that it must have felt more like vibrations than anything else. Apparently, it tickled; Cisco started laughing helplessly, trying to fight him off. Barry was merciless, the cloths a blur.   
  
"Enough," said Wells, moderately amused.   
  
Grinning, Barry stepped back and let the rags dangle from his wrists. Cisco fell back breathlessly against one of the work surfaces, crying, "I yield!" with copious amounts of melodrama.

“You take it back?” Barry asked him.

“I take it back,” Cisco acquiesced. Man, that was weird. I’m all tingly.”

“If we could get back to the matter at hand, gentlemen,” said Wells, fighting a small smile. “That was most impressive, Mr. Allen. Your speed is clearly coming on in leaps and bounds - and your control is much better. A few weeks ago you would have run into at least three walls by now.”

“Thanks,” Barry said sheepishly. He knew that goofing off with Cisco wasn’t exactly the most professional way of improving his speed - but it kept things interesting, and helped to shake off some of the excess energy that was beginning to become a bit of an issue. Sometimes at home he’d find himself bouncing with energy and Len was starting to notice. Thank god they’d found him an outlet.

“Walk with me,” said Wells. “I want to discuss something.”

“Sure,” Barry said, and he followed him out of the room.

Cisco grinned and started folding up the rags, his whole body still tingling from the fight. As he did, Caitlin advanced on him, wearing a rare smile. It warmed him to see it; for so many months he’d been trying to coax smiles out of her. He knew it was hard for her to see Barry alive and well and happy and know that Ronnie wasn’t - that would suck for anyone. He also knew that she didn’t really resent him for it. She was still mourning.

“You ever thank God that Barry’s on our side?” she asked.

“What makes you say that?”

Caitlin shrugged. “Well, look at what just happened. Imagine if he was a bad guy, if those were real weapons and he decided to turn on us. We’d be kind of screwed.”

She headed out of the room, scribbling on her clipboard. Cisco stared after her, suddenly frozen. There was a very graphic mental image in his head - an evil Barry. Wielding blades rather than towels. Slicing and stabbing, unstoppable. Who could stand in his way? They’d be dead before they even knew what was happening.

Nervously, Cisco looked around the room as if any of them might suddenly pop up and open a little window into his head and start rooting around, uncovering those unpleasant thoughts. He swallowed. That was an awful thing to think. How long had he known Barry? Over a year, long enough to know that he had dimples and blushed when he talked about sex, long enough to have seen him undressed. Long enough to know that Barry would cry at every kid’s movie ever made, animated or not. Barry Allen couldn’t even crush a bug on the sidewalk without feeling guilty about it; he’d discovered his powers by saving a man from being mown down by a car, rushing to save him without a moment’s pause to wonder what would happen if he leapt in front of it. Cisco could not think of a single person less likely to become a psycho murderer than Barry Allen. That creepy boyfriend of his, maybe. If Leonard Snart was moonlighting as a psycho killer, Cisco would not be the slightest bit surprised. But Barry? Never.

Even so…

He chewed on his lip. A contingency plan wouldn’t go amiss. He never had to use it. Never even had to acknowledge its existence. Just had to know that it was there… Insurance, as it were. That was a sensible thing to do - after all, Barry was a superhero. Someone had to be able to stop him. Cisco had seen too many movies to be naive about power - power corrupts. If Barry ever did become an evil supervillain, corrupted by excessive amounts of power that turned him into a megalomaniac, Cisco wanted to be ready.

Hurrying over to an empty desk, he pulled a piece of paper towards him, took a quick look over his shoulder and started sketching out components. A chamber. A trigger. Various other bits and pieces as the image of a gun started to take shape. Not just any gun, though - a gun fit to battle a speedster. Not a lethal one, but one designed to incapacitate. To  _ freeze _ . 

Just in case.


	3. Chapter 3

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> so if you're caught up with aftermath, you'll know that i took a four-month hiatus in order to rewrite rogue air because i wasn't happy with the original version i wote. i promised i'd upload the original as well, for anyone who was interested, and also because while i ended up scrapping this, there were things i really did like about it and i figured it'd be nice to share it anyway :) so here it is! hope you enjoy <3 
> 
> as a quick note, this is unpolished and unedited, and as such there may be bits missing, things that don't fully make sense, stuff like that, so sorry about that - but it is a deleted scene after all. hopefully it won't be too distracting!
> 
> content warnings: violence, injuries, body horror

Oliver agreed to help with the problem, shipping off the metahumans to Lian Yu. It would require some modifications to the existing cells, and some metas - such as Nimbus - would need to be kept sedated until a system had been devised to contain them safely, but Oliver seemed confident that it wasn’t going to be an issue.

“How are things over there?” he asked. “I know things were a little up in the air last time I saw you.”

“You mean with Len in the hospital?” Barry said drily. “Well I don’t think things could’ve gotten any worse”

“You guys are still communicating?”

“Better than ever, actually,” Barry admitted. “Which isn’t to say that he isn’t still driving me crazy - but we’re working it out. Listen, Oliver, I don’t have much time - but I might need a favour. Time’s ticking over here and pretty soon I’m gonna have to face Wells. I’m not convinced I can do it alone. Is there any chance you could lend a hand?”

“Just give me a time and a place and I’ll be there, Barry. You know that.”

“Thank you,” Barry said fervently. “Then all that’s left to organise is transportation. We have someplace to send the metas, but how are we gonna get them there?”

“I’ll speak to Diggle. He’s got connections in ARGUS; his wife, Lila, is an agent of theirs. She should be able to get us a plane. If you can keep the metas contained and get them to the specified airfield, we shouldn’t have a problem.”

Barry ended the call, surprised by how easy it had been to organise everything. That was, at least, until Joe reappeared and dropped the next bombshell.

“The CCPD aren’t gonna help us,” he said. “I figured as much. I spoke to the DA and she said not a chance in hell.”

“You  _ asked  _ the DA for assistance in human trafficking?!” said Cisco.

“Hypothetically. Doesn’t matter; she warned me strongly against it, heavily implied that she’d make sure I lost my job and then throw my ass in jail if she had even an inkling of me being involved in it, and then practically threw me out of her office. We’re on our own.”

Barry folded his arms. “No. We can’t do this on our own. We need road-blocks, diversions. We can’t risk any civilians getting caught up in this.”

“Can Oliver help?” asked Caitlin. 

Barry shook his head. “He’s on his way to help us with the Reverse Flash, but there’s no way he’s gonna get here in time to transport the metas, and I can’t leave the city undefended for the time it’d take to run to Star City and back. Besides, arrows wouldn’t have any effect on Nimbus, and I dread to think of how dangerous Oliver would be if Biovolo got to him.” He ran a hand through his hair. “Could we contact Firestorm?”

“Same problem,” she said. “They can get here, but not before the accelerator goes off, not even if they’re flying.”

“Crap,” Barry said softly. He turned away. “There’s gotta be someone we can ask.”

“Much as it kills me to say it,” said Joe, “have you thought about Snart?”

“Leonard? What about him?”

“He’s faced metas before,” Joe said.

“You want Leonard to be our back-up? Joe, that’s too dangerous.”

“Is it, though? I know I’d sooner see that cold bastard face up against a truck full of metas than you. Leonard’s no fluffy bunny, Barr. He can handle it.”

“I don’t want him near Biovolo,” said Barry. “After what happened last time. If I lose control… what if I hurt him again?”

“Barry, Biovolo doesn’t create emotions out of thin air,” said Caitlin. “He just amplifies the feelings that already exist. You and Leonard are better now than you’ve ever been. What is there left to be angry about?”

Barry turned away, his belly roiling. Even the thought of Len and Biovolo within a few feet of one another made him feel sick, but he knew Joe was right. Without a police escort, they needed someone who could handle themselves, and Len was a fighter. Besides which, he’d faced metahumans before. With the cold gun, he was probably the best person for the job. 

“I’ll talk to him,” Barry said. 

Caitlin smiled sympathetically. “I’ll contact Ronnie, see if he and Stein can make it in time to help with Wells.”

“Okay,” Barry said. “Then let’s move out.”

  
  


\--

  
"I need a favour," said Barry.   


"Go on."   


"You remember the metas we're keeping in the pipeline? The ones I, uh. Apprehended."   


There was a slight tightening at the corners of Len's mouth, but he only said, "I'm aware of them."   


"Doctor Wells has hidden a device down there. Some kind of miniaturised particle accelerator. We're not sure how it works or how to stop it - even moving it could set it off. It's triggered to blow in less than 24 hours. When it does... all the people down there will be caught in the blast."   


"What exactly is it you need me to do? If you scientists can't dismantle the thing I sincerely doubt you want to let me anywhere near it. I can disable a good security lock with the best of them - but rogue particle accelerators? Not really my area of expertise." Len fished an ice cube out of his drink with a cocktail stick and started crunching on it.   


"The metas are in danger. We have to move them. We have a secure location ready and waiting - Oliver has a prison on Lian Yu, the island where he was stranded for five years. It's military grade, specifically designed for the kind of criminals who aren't safe to be around ordinary people. Monsters. Metahumans." Barry looked Len in the eyes. "I need you to help me transport them. Mick and Lisa too, if you can get them on board. We have containment units that can hold them, but if they get loose we're gonna need backup. We're gonna need you guys."   
  
There was a very long silence. Len ate several more ice cubes, his expression unreadable. While he waited, Barry did his level best not to fidget. He did an appalling job of it; his left leg bounced relentlessly up and down, just a shade away from actually vibrating.   


Len's hand landed on Barry's knee under the table, stilling the movement.    


"You know how I feel about what you're doing with that pipeline," Len said coolly. "I'm not a fan of prison as a whole - I've been there, didn't think much of the experience - but I could handle that. But what you're doing, keeping those people in solitary confinement? That's a whole different ball game. It's barbaric."   


"I know, I -"   


"You not only expect me to let you lock these people away, but help you to transport them to an even more desolate location where they'll never be heard from again?"   


"If we don't move these people, they will die," said Barry. "Surely incarceration is better than death."   


"Debatable."   


"Look, the pipeline was never intended to be a long term solution," Barry said. "That was never the point. We always had other plans for the metas - but we haven't had the time to carry them out. I give you my word that as soon as Wells is dealt with, we will work with these metas. We'll rehabilitate them and integrate them back into society. But right now Wells has to be the priority, or else there may not be a society for them to go back into."   
  
Len pursed his lips, but after a while he nodded and drew a notebook and pen out of his coat pocket.   


"I'll need a favour from you," he said. "You're not gonna like it."   


"Anything," Barry promised.   


"I want you to erase me."   


Bewildered, Barry said, "What?"   


"Wipe my records. Criminal records, parking tickets, overdue library books. I want every trace of Leonard Snart erasing from the face of the internet. CCPD, SCPD, ARGUS, FBI. I don't want any Google search results, any evidence in lock-up, any testimony. I want every digital record of me wiped from the face of the earth."   
Troubled, Barry pressed his steepled fingers to his lips. "Len, I... I don't know if I can agree to that."   


"Those are my terms. Take them or leave them."   


"I - I could lose my job over that."   


"I'm not asking you," Len said. "I'm asking our red friend. We both know he's fast enough to be in and out and have those records gone without anybody being any the wiser."   


Barry breathed out shakily. "Len, I don't know..."   


"It's not just about me. Think about it, Barry. If I ever decide I want out of this lifestyle, I'm screwed. I can't get a job interview without someone looking me up and finding out that I'm a felon. If things stay the way they are I'll still be picking pockets when I'm ninety. Sure, I love what I do, and I'm not ready to give it up - but one day I will. I'll have to. Right now, I can't even get a phone bill with my real name on it. My driver's license, household bills, even my name on the lease of our apartment - they're all registered under fake names so nothing flags up. I'm sick of holding my breath and hoping no one will decide to investigate me." He leaned forwards and held Barry's hands. "Don't you want to be able to take me to dinners and talk about me with your colleagues without worrying that they'll look me up and decide to arrest me?"   


"People at the CCPD still know your face. Erasing your records won't change that."   
Len shrugged. "Maybe not, but they can't prosecute me without evidence. It's your choice, Barry... but those are my terms. They're non-negotiable."   
  
Barry buried his face in his hands. Trust Len to ask for something that Barry was so desperate to give him, but knew he couldn't. More times than he cared to admit he'd sat in his lab with Len's records up on the computer screen, reading lists of transgressions a mile long. Even with his speed, it was an extensive list. His fingers had itched on more than one occasion to wipe it all away - but Barry Allen, CSI, couldn't do such things.   
  
The Flash could.   
  
"Okay," Barry said. "I'll do it."   


Len's only reaction was a gleam in his eye. "I knew you'd come around. Who are we transporting? I need a list." He clicked his pen.   


"Shawna Baez," said Barry. She was a solid bargaining chip; she and Len had known each other only briefly, but loyalty was something Len had in spades.   


Len wrote her name down with a nod.   


"Kyle Nimbus."   


Pulling a face, Len said, "Flatulence Man? If I was a metahuman who turned into a cloud of gas, there's no way I'd admit to it." But he wrote Kyle's name down too; he added Jake Simmons to the list with a purse of his lips when Barry mentioned it, but made no material objection.   


Barry hesitated; they were getting into rocky territory. "Mark Mardon."   


"Hm," said Len darkly, but added him to the list. "If he makes any trouble, I'll shoot him."   


The last name was the one Barry had dreaded mentioning the most. Chest tight, he said hesitantly, "Roy Biovolo?"   


Len threw the pen down. "Deal's off."   


"Len, come on - "   


"Nope. Not having it. That guy got you filled with arrows and me in a hospital bed. He can rot in there."   


"We can't just leave one guy," Barry objected. "You think I don't hate him just as much as you do? I'd love to leave him in there - but we can't play God like that. It's all or nothing. All the metas have hurt people and done bad things, we can’t pick and choose between the ones we like and the ones we can’t stand. That makes us as bad as them.”

“I wouldn’t lose any sleep over it,” Len muttered, but he reluctantly wrote Biovolo’s name down. “I’ll call Mick and my sister and see what we can do. In the meantime, there are some supplies I think we should get. A blindfold for Shawna. Biovolo too, maybe, I’m not sure how his powers work. You’ll have to fill me in.”

“We have some containment units ready and waiting,” Barry said. “All we need you guys to do is oversee the process. If anything goes wrong, we need the metas out of commission. The priority is the safety of the city, which means if they’re going to get loose and you have  _ no other option  _ then you take them out.”

“Kill them, you mean.”

“I mean incapacitate them.”

“Same thing.”

“I mean it, Len. I’m trying to save these people, not kill them. If they’re about to seriously injure someone, or it’s self defence, do what you have to do. There is no other reason I will accept any kind of lethal force. Make sure Mick knows.”

“I’ll tell him.” Len got to his feet. “I have questions. Namely about transportation. I can’t throw five metahumans on the back of my bike, and unless you’ve been doing some serious weightlifting behind my back, you can’t run with them either. So exactly how do you plan to get them to the airfield?”

Barry held out his hand. “Come with me and I’ll show you.”

Len closed his eyes, and when he opened them it was with a deeply disapproving look… but he reached out and linked their fingers together.

Barry snatched him off his feet.

They skidded to a stop in the S.T.A.R Labs parking lot, where a giant truck was waiting. It was bigger even than the trucks at the Central City Gold Reserve, and towered over them. Cisco stood by it, looking inordinately pleased with himself. 

Thumping the side, he said, “My uncle owns a shipping company - this is one of their vehicles. Managed to convince him to let me borrow it. I might have made some modifications.”

Len took a sceptical look at the truck. “It looks the part, but seeing as you’ve got a metahuman who can turn into actual gas and another that can control the weather, I’m gonna guess that a food transportation truck isn’t going to cut it.”

“This isn’t just any food transportation truck,” said Cisco. He flicked his hair, pleased as a cat. “I rerouted the power from Wells’ tech to the cooling systems of the truck and used it to create a power dampener that has a similar effect to the pipeline. Once they’re inside, the metas won’t be able to use their abilities. Cool, right?”

“Interesting,” said Len, walking up to the truck and rapping his knuckles on the side. “How exactly do you plan on getting them into it? I can’t imagine they’ll be keen to line up two by two and go into the arc.”

“We’re going to sedate them,” said Caitlin, emerging from the side of the vehicle. “Hopefully the dosage will last for the entire journey. We’ll give them another dose just before we load them onto the plane, that way they won’t cause any trouble for the ARGUS agents.”

“You really have thought of everything,” Len said, and he leaned against the vehicle, smiling thinly. “I’m impressed.”

“There’s just one teeny problem,” said Cisco. “We need someone to drive it. Somebody with a Class A commercial drivers’ license.”

Len twitched. Barry turned to him.

“What?”

“I know someone with a Class A CDL,” Len said reluctantly.

“Oh, God,” Barry said, picturing some criminal truck driver with missing teeth and an eye-patch. “Who?”

“My sister.”

Barry blinked. “Lisa is a  _ truck driver _ ?”

He shrugged. “Amongst other things. It pays the bills.” Folding his arms, he said, “I might be able to convince my sister to lend us a hand, but without revealing your identity it’s going to be difficult. She’s going to want to know whose payroll she’s on.”

Barry closed his eyes. The more people knew his identity, the more people were in danger, and the list was already dangerously long. It seemed to be spiralling out of his control, and the people who might not know for sure almost certainly suspected, at the very least. It seemed like everyone and their mother knew who the Flash was, and he wasn’t keen to add another to the list.

But… Lisa was family. He hadn’t spent much time with her over the past few months - he got the distinct impression that Len was trying to keep her at arm’s length, probably keeping her distanced from all the mess with the Reverse Flash - but she was Len’s sister, on a par with him and Mick for importance in Len’s life. He knew Len would trust Lisa with anything, and Len didn’t trust so easy. 

Squaring his shoulders, he said. “You can tell her. Just… tell her not to be mad, okay?”

“I can tell her,” said Len. “Doesn’t mean she’ll listen.” He folded his arms. “The thing about my sister is that she hates being kept in the dark. Last time I managed to pacify her with a pretty gun so she could destroy things. This time, she might not cool off so easy.”

“Just do what you can,” said Barry. “We need everybody we can to help us out on this. If the CCPD won’t lend a hand, we’ll have to do this on our own.

~*~

Len didn’t think he’d ever seen Barry look so uncomfortable. It was highly amusing.

Ever since her grand entrance, in which Lisa had swaggered into the cortex dressed from head to toe in leather and wearing woefully impractical shoes, she hadn’t spoken a word. All she’d done was stand with her arms folded, glaring at Barry. He stood avoiding eye contact, his ears going pink whilst he shuffled like a schoolboy, the Flash suit creaking slightly as he fidgeted. Meanwhile, Caitlin looked disapproving and Cisco stood staring at Lisa with rapture. Len’s sister could eat that dork for breakfast. Len hoped she didn’t. Poor little Cisco deserved to catch a break.

“Barry,” Lisa said. 

“...Yes?” Barry said warily.

Lisa was a grown woman, and too old to pout, but she was certainly close to it. “We’re friends, aren’t we?”

“Of course we are.”

“More than friends. You’re Lenny’s boyfriend. That makes you family.”

“I,” said Barry. “I mean, yeah.”

“And yet you’ve been keeping secrets from me.” She took a few steps towards him, and Barry very wisely scuttled backwards. “I don’t like it when people keep secrets. Family should tell each other everything.”

“I understand why you’re upset. I should’ve been honest with you, I know, but everyone who’s been involved in this has been injured in some way. You saw what happened to Leonard when he was in the hospital. We’ve all been attacked or threatened or targeted in some way, and I knew Len would never forgive me if anybody hurt you…”

Lisa’s eyes narrowed dangerously. “But that isn’t your decision to make,” she said. “Or Lenny’s. It’s mine. I can take care of myself… as you clearly know, or else you wouldn’t be asking for my help.”

Barry hung his head. “I’m sorry.”

Silence stole into the room and waited there, hanging pervasively over them. Lisa continued to look stormy. Len had to admire her theatricality.

All of a sudden, Lisa threw her arms around Barry and squeezed him tightly, all the air wheezing out of him. Her hair spilled forwards, obscuring both of their faces. For a moment, Barry flailed helplessly before he managed to get his arms around her and awkwardly pat her on the back.

“I forgive you,” Lisa said as she stepped back. “After all, you are my future brother-in-law. But just so you know, if you lie to me again I’m going to take off these stilettos and stab you in the throat. And possibly the eyes.” She smiled brightly. “Do we have a deal?”

“Deal,” Barry said weakly. “But uh, Len and I aren’t actually - ”

“Good!” said Lisa. “So. Now all that’s settled, what’s the plan?”

“Finally,” Caitlin muttered, moving to join them in the centre of the room.

“Okay,” said Barry. “So we have five metas to transport from here to Ferris Airfield. We’re going to sedate them first of all, to make sure we don’t have any trouble in transit. Once we arrive, we can meet up with the operatives from ARGUS who’ll help us load them onto the aircraft and hopefully that’ll be the end of it. Cisco fitted one of his uncle’s trucks to suppress metahuman abilities, so fingers crossed everything runs smoothly.”

“Things are definitely not going to run smoothly,” said Len. 

“No,” Barry admitted. “Probably not.”

“What about keeping civilians out of our way?” asked Lisa.

“We were hoping the CCPD could help us with that. As it doesn’t seem like it’s worked out that way, I’m going to run ahead of the vehicle and try to divert traffic along the way. Len, if you can stay behind the truck to keep an eye on everything, Cisco and Caitlin can travel in the cab to keep an eye on the containment system and re-sedate the metas if they start to wake up. Lisa, you’re driving. If that’s okay with you?”

“That works,” Lisa said. “I’m an excellent driver. Isn’t that right, Lenny?”

“Maybe not in those shoes.”

She scowled at him. “I can drive a truck  _ and  _ kick your ass in these shoes, jerk. Just you try and stop me.” Tossing her hair, she asked, “Where’s your stepdaddy? And Iris? Haven’t seen her in a while.”

“They’re at home keeping an eye on Wally,” said Barry. “The Reverse Flash already abducted him once. He didn’t seem too concerned about us letting Wally go - I mean, he hasn’t come back for him so far - but we didn’t wanna risk it.”

“Besides which, it probably isn’t a good idea for Joe to be anywhere near this,” Caitlin added. “The DA already warned him that she won’t be able to intervene if anyone discovers his involvement. The only way to give him plausible deniability is to keep him well away from where all of this is happening.”

“Seems fair,” said Lisa, shrugging. “So when do we start?”

They all looked to Barry.

“Now,” he said. “Caitlin, could you sedate the metas? We only have a couple of hours til we’re due to meet with ARGUS.”

“I’m on it,” she said, disappearing.

“Everybody else get ready to help load them into the truck. We’re going to have to do this fast if everybody’s going to make it out alive.”

~*~

By some miracle, they actually arrived at Ferris Air on time. Maybe even a little ahead of schedule.

Lisa had driven the truck with no problems at all, inadequate footwear be damned. Barry had charged ahead rearranging diversion signs throughout the city so that they had a clear, civilian-free run the whole way through, and Leonard had brought up the rear, not that they’d needed a guard. The metas were all safely locked in their box and the sedatives Caitlin had used weren’t due to wear off for a while. From where Cisco was standing - or rather, sitting - things were going pretty well. 

The one problem he was having right now was beautiful, deadly and sitting right beside him in the cab.

“Don’t I get a cool name?” asked Lisa, looking coyly at him. “I hear you came up with Captain Cold.”

He could feel an idiotic blush creeping across his cheeks at the thought that she knew he came up with dorky codenames for all of the bad guys. Or not so bad guys. Or girls. God, he could’ve killed Caitlin for hopping out of the truck and leaving him alone with Lisa Snart. She was so beautiful that his thoughts had turned to static. Rather than looking at her and losing what little remained of his cognitive functions, he focused instead on the tablet he was using to monitor the status of the meta-dampeners. The device slipped in his sweaty hands; he wanted to wipe them on his jeans but couldn’t risk her seeing. Instead, he let his knee jiggle up and down. It was irritating, even to him, but he couldn’t stop it. He felt over-caffeinated by her very presence.

“Uh,” he said. “I don’t know. It’s kind of hard to come up with them on the spot…”

He chanced a look at her and immediately wished he hadn’t. She was fucking gorgeous and diverting a whole lot of attention his way, her eyes wide and hopeful. How could she do that? She was giving him those big eyes like Puss In Boots from Shrek, only a zillion times cuter. Cisco’s heart thumped. When had a pretty girl ever looked at him like that before? With his free hand, he clung to the seat. Was it his imagination, or was she leaning in? Oh, God, she was leaning in. He could see her eyelashes, dark and luxurious, and flecks of gold in her eyes. She bit down on her plump lower lip and Cisco saw stars. She smelt gorgeous - fruity but with a little zing, kind of a spicy hint to it. He was on cloud nine - except not really, because in an ideal world he’d already have said something incredibly smooth and kissed her by now. With tongue. 

“Please,” she breathed.

All of Cisco’s considerable brain power failed him at that exact moment. The only words available to him were ‘Fuck’ and ‘Me’, neither of which seemed appropriate. Lisa Snart’s evil supervillain name - what could it be? Something timeless. Classy, but a little dangerous. Something with steel in it, something that associated her with her brother because they were kind of a package deal.

He floundered uselessly. ‘Ice Queen’ was the first thing that popped into his head, but that was boring and predictable and kind of inappropriate, because it was Len who had the cold gun, not her. She had the gold gun. She could be golden something. Golden sunshine? No, not cold enough. Not graceful enough. Lisa Snart could pull off heists in six inch heels without breaking a sweat. She was elegant and proud, like a figure skater. He could definitely see her on the ice, in one of those tight leotards with the floaty skirts. Gliding across the surface of a frozen lake like an angel.

It came to him then. “How about... Golden Glider?”

Lisa’s face lit up. She bit her lip. “Smart is the new sexy, Cisco,” she said softly.

Her hand was on his leg. Oh, God. Not even just his leg, his  _ thigh _ , and he had no idea what to do in that situation, he was breathing too fast and it was making him a little light-headed and Lisa Snart’s perfect, pouty mouth was heading his way, ready to plant a kiss on him and all Cisco could think about was what Len would do if he caught Cisco making out with his sister in the middle of a mission.

It took Cisco a minute to realise that the alarm which was blaring was not just inside his head. Bewildered, he looked down at his lap. The screen of his tablet was flashing manically, and Cisco felt all the blood drain from his face.

“Oh, God.”

“What?” Lisa said grumpily, her hand abruptly leaving his leg.

He’d never thought there would come a moment when he would willingly interrupt being groped by Lisa Snart, but this was an emergency. “Oh my God,” he repeated, and he opened the cab of the truck and leapt down, staggering towards his friends who were waiting in the dark.

~*~

“Your ARGUS friends aren’t very punctual,” Len commented.

“They’ll be here.” Barry wrapped his arms around himself. At times, he envied Len for having a parka with a big fluffy hood as his supervillain costume. As cool as the Flash suit was, with its comms unit and built in defibrillator and friction-resistant material, sometimes he would kill for a warm coat. All that running could get breezy. The tip of his nose in particular felt like an iceberg poking miserably out of the sea.

As if reading his mind, Len put an arm around him. “Cold?”

Barry shivered. “Is it that obvious?” He wondered if he could convince Cisco to built a couple of heating pads into the suit. When he was running, he generated plenty of heat - it was the standing around waiting that made him chilly. He turned to look at Cisco, who was sat with Lisa in the cab of the truck. Poor Cisco looked not so much like a deer caught in the headlights as a deer on a floodlit stage with every spotlight trained on him.

“I think my sister is terrorising your friend.”

“I think so too.”

“She likes him,” Len said.

“Really?” 

“He’s not her usual type, but she’s into him. Thinks he’s cute. For Lisa, that’s high praise. Plus, he gets bonus points for building her gun and for keeping his fawning at a distance. My sister is used to guys falling at her feet. Not so used to guys who try to reign it in.”

“And what do  _ you  _ think of him? As a potential boyfriend, I mean.”

Len considered for a moment. “If he dates her, I won’t break his legs… unless he particularly annoys me.”

Elbowing him in the ribs, Barry said, “Stop threatening my friends.”

“No promises.” Looking up, Len said, “Is that the plane?”

He pointed. Barry looked up and was grateful to see the lights of a plane coming in to land. Barry wasn’t in the mood to be hanging around a frozen air hangar at this time of night. He’d far rather have been locked up somewhere warm, trying to figure out how the hell to handle the situation with Doctor Wells. Or even better - tucked up in bed with Len, fast asleep.

“It’s almost time,” he said, and there was a low droning noise as the plane started to come into land.

“Guys!”

They both turned, parting instinctively. Cisco was running full pelt towards them, waving his tablet. 

“What?” snapped Len.

“We have a problem!” Cisco said, staggering breathlessly towards them. “Big, big problem. Like, Godzilla scale problem!”

He waved the tablet at them.

“Words, Cisco,” Barry prompted.

“Containment units - failed - ” Cisco gasped. “Metas - gonna get loose - any second - ”

“Fix it!” Len snapped.

“I’m trying, I don’t know if there’s anything I can do - someone must have sabotaged the containment field - ”

Instinctively, Barry looked at Len. 

“Not guilty. For once.” He cocked his head at Lisa, who had appeared at Cisco’s side. “Sis?”

Lisa shook her head.

Cisco was hunched desperately over his tablet, his fingers flying as he tried to fix the containment field. The frantic curses flying from his lips were a testament to his lack of success. 

Then there was a rumble of thunder in the distance, and a fat droplet of water fell from the sky and landed on Barry’s nose. Several more fell onto Cisco’s tablet, leaving streaks on the screen. They all looked up. Directly above their heads, ugly black clouds were gathering like mourners at a funeral, shrouded in shades of black and grey.

“Mardon,” Barry said.

“Lenny…” said Lisa.

“Mick!” bellowed Len. “We got incoming.” Snatching his gun out of its holster, he powered up. “I’ll take Mardon.”

“Stay away from Biovolo!” Barry warned. “I’ll - ”

Before he could continue, there was a deafening crash and a streak of lightning lit up the sky. With a scream of metal and an orange flash, the plane dipped alarmingly on one side. Smoke poured from one wing. Another blast followed, and the plane’s engines howled as it flipped over and over, the pilot losing control. Veering off to one side, the plane went straight over their heads and shot off in completely the wrong direction, very clearly about to crash.

With rain pouring down over their heads, another flash of lightning illuminated the silhouettes of their metas climbing out of the truck. The shadows played strangely across Kyle Nimbus’ face, making him look like a horror movie villain. Then he evaporated into a cloud of gas.

“Go!” yelled Barry, and ran to intercept.

  
  


~*~

Barry vanished in a red and yellow blur, making a beeline straight for Kyle Nimbus. That was fine by Len; that one was out of his hands. He wouldn’t even know how to begin to fight a meta made out of gas. Instead, Len ran at Mardon.

He raised his gun aloft and aimed a blast directly at the meta. Mardon dodged and rounded on him with a snarl. Mick and Lisa were hot on Len’s heels; Lisa fired her gold gun at Mardon but he threw his hand out and a blast of wind caught her, flinging her back a good ten feet. Mick roared his displeasure and fired his heat gun, but another wave of Mardon’s hand redirected the stream of flames in completely the wrong direction. Mick’s gun wasn’t getting on well with the rain, either. Bellowing, Mick kept running, and Mardon turned to flee. 

Simmons, the meta with the ridiculous laser eyes, suddenly appeared in Len’s face. It dawned on Len all of a sudden that he recognised the guy - firstly because he looked kind of like the latest incarnation of Doctor Who, secondly because he owed Len money. This second transgression was not one Len was willing to overlook; he raised his gun and fired a blast of cold directly into Simmons’ face.

The meta collapsed, his face having disintegrated into a smoking, frostbitten husk. Whoops. Len’s promise to Barry about not killing anybody was now dust in the wind - or rather, disintegrated skin particles. Oh, well. Len shrugged and threw himself back into the fight.

In the corner of his eye, he saw Lisa struggling to her feet as she headed after Mick and Mardon. Good girl. He’d have to have words with her about sensible footwear, though; those shoes of hers might make eyes pop but they also made ankles break if you weren’t careful. A few hundred metres away, Barry was whirling his arms at Nimbus, which looked more than a little ridiculous, but whatever. 

“What the hell, Snart?”

Len whipped around. Cowering in the back of the meta transportation truck was Shawna Baez, her eyes wide and her hair in disarray.

“Shawna,” he said, nodding. “Long time no see.”

“You’re working with the Flash? I thought you were trying to catch him!”

Len shrugged. “Times change. Guess you haven’t been keeping up with the news. He and I have a little bit of a thing going. I guess you could say he’s my concubine. I’m surprised you didn’t read about it in the papers.”

Shawna’s eyes flashed. “He kept me locked in a  _ box _ !”

“I’m sure you must be a little frustrated about that,” Len said, and he pointed his gun at her. “Don’t suppose you’d care to get into another one?”

“Over my dead  _ body _ !” Shawna spat.

Len shrugged. “Well, if you insist.”

She had a few little tells when she was preparing to teleport. Firstly, she took a deep breath to brace herself. Secondly, her eyes started flickering all over the place as she tried to figure out the furthest place she could transport herself to. Len might have assumed she was watching the fight taking place behind him, but he was no fool. Neither was she, and you’d have to be one to look away for one second when someone was holding a gun on you.

Shawna vanished in a puff of black smoke, but Len had encountered her before and he knew her tricks. Twisting around, he met her halfway; as soon as she reappeared behind him, he slammed the butt of his gun into her temple and then kicked her legs out from underneath her. She crumpled, hitting the floor with a thud, and Len immediately straddled her and shook out the strip of black fabric he’d kept coiled around his wrist. He wound it tightly around her head, being sure to cover her eyes and tuck the ends in so it wouldn’t come loose. Then, he grabbed the zip ties he kept in his pocket and secured her wrists behind her back so she couldn’t take the blindfold off. That done, he slung her back in the truck and turned around to get stock of the situation.

The whole process of taking out Shawna had taken less than ten seconds. The girl had guts, but she should never have wasted time yelling at him. If it had been Len, he’d never have drawn attention to himself, just got the hell out of there. She’d learn. If she ever had another chance to experience the world outside her cell, that is.

Len took a second to process what was going on. Barry seemed to have the situation with Nimbus under control, so he turned his back on that. Biovolo was nowhere to be seen - although Len could hear what sounded a hell of a lot like Caitlin Snow screaming bloody murder, and he was willing to bet that bastard was behind it. He didn’t have time to investigate. Mardon was summoning more wind, keeping Lisa and Mick from getting close enough to shoot him. Len decided he was most needed there, and so he charged.

He slammed into Mardon like a wrecking ball, which was immensely satisfying right until they both hit the ground and pain shot through his body. Snarling, he rolled over and got his feet underneath himself, but he received a very painful reminder that he wasn’t as young as he used to be when Mardon kicked him back to the ground and got up. Once upon a time, Len would never have let himself be kicked about like that. He didn’t intend to start now; aggrieved, he fired his gun right between Mardon’s shoulderblades.

The blast knocked the meta to the ground and Len headed towards him with his gun at the ready, but Mardon lashed out with the wind and buffeted Len backwards a few feet. He was panicking, losing control of his powers; they were reacting instinctively to protect him, but instinct could only take you so far. Glancing around, Len looked for Mick and Lisa. Lisa had taken her shoes off and was sprinting barefoot towards him, ready to flank him. Mick wasn’t far behind, waving his gun threateningly.

“All together!” Len bellowed. He’d like to see Mardon take on three of them at once.

“Len!"

Make that four. Nimbus was on the ground, unconscious, and lightning blazed as Barry prepared to join them. Len felt a grin cross his face, and he turned back to Mardon, gun raised, just in time to see the Weather Wizard raise a hand. There was a menacing crackle, the hairs on Len’s arms and the back of his neck stood on end. Static filled the air, and lightning streaked down from the sky and struck Barry full on.

Len could barely hear himself howling over the wind, over the sound of Barry screaming. They all watched as Barry hit the ground and skidded, rigid with pain, smoking through the suit. For a moment, Len was frozen, staring at Barry’s body on the ground. He was curled in on himself, his pained expression visible even from that distance, his body racked with tremors. Cold, insidious anger took root around Len’s ribs. The night of the particle accelerator had featured heavily in his nightmares for months, in particular the image of Barry being struck by lightning. To witness it here, when Barry was less than a hundred feet away and convulsing on the floor and Len could do nothing, was more than he could bear.

He lurched towards Mardon, lips curled in a snarl. He could hear Mick roaring, Lisa screaming a warning that was snatched away by the wind. Len didn’t care. He didn’t even raise his gun; that wouldn’t be enough. His foot found Mardon’s ankle, lashed out and kicked him to the ground, and then he was on top of him, slamming the bastard’s head repeatedly against the ground. He skinned his knuckles, felt the blood trickling down his hand and couldn’t have cared less. 

Remembering the cold gun, he raised it and smacked Mardon across the face with it, hard. There was stillness all of a sudden, the weather calming as Mardon lost consciousness. Distantly, Len could hear Barry gasping, still making low sounds of pain. His hands closed around Mardon’s throat, feeling his pulse thrumming away like a hummingbird trapped just under the skin. It wouldn’t take much to crush it, to leave Mardon empty and lifeless.

Mardon jerked, regaining consciousness all of a sudden. His lips were turning blue; he clawed at Len’s gloved hands around his throat, but his attempt to fight him off was weak. The panic in his eyes was beautiful. So clear. 

Why bother killing him when he could ensure that the rest of his life would be as awful as humanly possible?

Len pressed the cold gun directly to Mardon’s chest and fired.

Mardon screeched, writhing desperately to try and throw him off. Len could feel the coldness blossoming between them, spreading every second. He imagined Mardon’s skin turning black, cracking and peeling off as Len flayed him with the gun. Desperate fingers scrabbled at him, clawing at his face, trying to push the gun away, but Len only tightened his finger on the trigger. Barry had told him not to kill anybody, but he hadn’t mentioned anything about horrifying disfigurement. 

The screams cut off to rasping cries, Mardon’s throat no longer able to take the abuse of his yelling. His lips were turning blue, the tears and snot running from his eyes freezing on his cheeks and mouth in glimmering slivers of ice. Absently, Len wondered how far the frostbite had spread now. How deep it ran. Mardon might actually die from this, in spite of his intentions. 

The man had passed out from the pain and Len’s gun was almost out of juice when he finally sat back and shoved it back into its holster. He was breathing hard. Mardon’s shirt was frozen, covered in little ice crystals, but right in the centre the fabric had flaked away, tearing under the pressure. He could see a flash of blackened skin, crispy like charcoal. There was a piece hanging loose; if he got his nails underneath it and started peeling, he could rip it away like chunks of dead wood on a log. He wondered how deep he could get, after all the damage. Trouble was, the nerve damage might be so intense that Mardon wouldn’t even feel it. If that was the case, Len would pay him another visit later. Freeze off some fingers, maybe a couple of toes.

All of a sudden the world seemed very quiet. He had no idea where Mick and Lisa had gone, but he could hear Barry still gasping on the floor a few feet away. Doubtless he was in too much pain to see what Len had done or he’d have tried to stop him. Taking a very deep breath, Len got to his feet and looked impassively down at Mardon’s body. He was still breathing, just about. That would have to suffice.

And now he had to go to Barry.

Len straightened, turned around and found himself staring directly into Roy Biovolo’s glowing red eyes.

~*~

Pain. Pain like he’d scarcely ever felt. Since becoming the Flash Barry had experienced pain in a multitude of ways; he’d been stabbed, punched, thrown across rooms, shot at and screamed at and strangled, but he’d never felt anything like this. Every nerve ending in his body felt like it had been flayed open, like someone was holding a lit match to the frayed ends of every single one. His body convulsed; gasps of pain found their way unbidden from his lips. All he could feel was burning. Even as his body tried to heal itself, there was more pain. He flexed his fingers, tried to sit up and felt more pain shoot through him. After that attempt, he lay still and let the agony run its course. 

Distantly, he could hear screaming, the sound of Len’s cold gun firing. Lisa and Mick shouting to each other, Caitlin yelling in the distance. It all seemed so very far away. Barry lay drifting on the ground, struggling to keep his eyes open through fresh waves of agony.

Eventually, though, it faded a little. Became bearable. Barry still felt like someone had flayed off the top layer of his skin and left him soft and vulnerable underneath, his skin unbearably sensitive, but he could move. He opened his eyes.

Len was standing over him, and Barry put a shaky hand up to shield his eyes. Light streamed from behind him, so that Barry couldn’t get a good look at his face.

“Len?” he croaked. “What happened? Did we get everyone?”

His muscles were still cramped and tense. He held his hand out to Len, waiting for the older man to help him up.

Len stared coldly at his outstretched hand. A chill ran through Barry.

“Len?”

Face contorting, Len raised the cold gun and fired.

Barry  _ screamed. _

It was a continuous stream of fresh agony, wave after wave of it slamming into him. His over sensitized body convulsed as the cold gun seared every fiber of his being, every nerve ending, every nook and cranny of his body. This was a gun built for him, built to hurt him and never had he been so aware of that as he was now. 

He couldn’t even see past the blast, the light dazzling him and bringing tears to his eyes. In a panic, he started vibrating to try and keep warm, but he could feel the chill seeping through his body, sharp and biting where the cold gun was blazing against him, freezing his suit and his exposed skin. He tried to roll over out of the way of the blast, but he was caught in the throes of the cold field, shocks racking his body. Len stood over him, his arm steady, just watching as Barry convulsed.

“Lenny, what are you doing?” Lisa screamed.

Mick slammed into Len, knocking him off balance with a grunt. Len staggered, the cold gun falling from his grip; he didn’t bother to go after it, just lunged at Barry and grabbed the front of his suit with both hands. Dazed from the pain, Barry lay there stupidly, choking. Len shook him like a rat. He bashed Barry’s head against the ground hard enough to knock him senseless. There was a red glint in his eyes, his jaw clenched.

“You left me!” he bellowed.

Barry couldn’t speak, couldn’t fight him off. Tremors racked his body as he fought desperately to do something, anything, but he was still thick and clumsy with the aftershocks of the pain and with the cold that seemed to have turned his very bones to ice. Len shook him again, dropped him and then punched him in the face. There was a crunch as the blow connected, a spike of pain in his jaw as a tooth came loose. Blood in his mouth, a tangy metallic taste as though he’d just bitten down on a fork. He could see the rage on Len’s face, frightening amounts of it. Biovolo had gotten to him.

Every ounce of fight went out of Barry, then. This was no more than he deserved - just a little late karma from when he’d hurt Len himself. There was a burning sensation in the middle of his chest as if someone was pressing a lit match there, his head throbbed, his teeth were aching with the cold and he could feel his mouth swelling up. His fingers were like frozen sausages inside his gloves, all of his muscles like wet sponges. Len was leaning back ready to punch him again. Barry just lay there. He was so tired.

Mick seized Len from behind and yanked him backwards, slamming him to the ground. The sudden absence of weight on Barry’s body was a shock; his legs started tingling with pins and needles. He could still hear Len yelling, Lisa screaming at him and the grunts Mick made as he fought his friend, superior strength barely overcoming Len’s rage. 

“You got struck by that fucking lightning!” Len shouted. “You left me, you were in that coma for nine months and I  _ waited for you,  _ Barry! You left me by myself, you made me weak and then you  _ fucking left me  _ \- let go of me!” He rammed an elbow into Mick’s ribs; Mick responded by wrenching Len’s arms behind his back so tightly that it must have hurt, and hanging on tight.

“I’m sorry,” Barry whispered, his vision blurring as he blinked, trying to clear the tears from his eyes. He rolled over, tried to push himself up with one shaking hand, but sagged back to the ground again. He felt as if someone had grabbed a fistful of skin from his chest and torn it away with their fingernails. “I’m so sorry - ”

“Snap out of it!” Lisa said, standing right in front of Len. She had her gold gun pointed at him, hadn’t completely taken leave of her senses, but if Mick lost his grip then Len could still attack her. There was an ugly look on his face; he was still fighting Mick for all he was worth. “You stupid bastard, it’s us! Look at yourself. You wanna shoot Barry, huh? You wanna shoot the one thing that makes your life worth living? What, you gonna do the same to me and Mick?”

Len spat on the ground at her feet. “You ruined my life,” he snarled. “I could have gotten away if it weren’t for you. Called the social and got Dad locked up. I could have done something with my life. But I had to look after  _ you. _ ”

Lisa took a step back. “You - ”

“It’s not him,” Barry ground out, pushing himself onto his knees. “It’s not him talking, it’s Biovolo - he doesn’t mean it - ”

“I mean it,” Len panted, making another attempt to wrench free of Mick’s grasp. “I hate you, Flash. I wish I never met you. That night when you got struck by that lightning, I almost beat a man to death. I kicked the shit out of him and I left him there to die because he reminded me of you. And as soon as I get free of this  _ asshole -  _ ” He tried to stamp on Mick’s foot, but Mick shook him so that he lost his balance. “ - I’m gonna do the same to you. I’m gonna leave you cold and bleeding on the floor. I’m going to kill all of you, I’m not gonna let you stand in my way any more, I’ll  _ shoot all of you  _ -”

“Shut up, asshole,” Mick growled, and he threw Len to the ground and smashed his head against the floor.

Len’s whole body went limp. Mick spat on the floor, pulled a couple of zip ties out of his pocket and secured Len’s wrists with them. 

Lisa stood staring at her brother, shaking all over. Her bare feet were turning purple with cold.

“Lisa,” Barry rasped.

She didn’t look at him. Instead, she put her gold gun back in its holster and walked away without turning back.

~*~

It could have been worse, all things considered.

They had two metas still in custody. Shawna Baez was safely on her way to Lian Yu, in another plane that had been dispatched shortly after the first one went down. Mark Mardon was rather the worst for wear, with some pretty intense frostbite; Caitlin had been hit by Rainbow Raider, but once they had her sorted out she patched Mardon up and left instructions for his care with the people taking him to the island. Simmons was found with his head pretty much blown off, frostbitten almost beyond recognition; Barry would have liked to blame that on Biovolo, but he couldn’t be sure whether that part was just Len acting of his own volition.

Biovolo had escaped. Barry wanted to hunt him down, but he had bigger concerns. Wells would be on his way soon - they suspected it might have been him who sabotaged the containment units, somehow - and he needed to be ready.

They’d sorted Len out after Biovolo got to him, but not before he’d broken Mick’s nose, attempted to strangle Caitlin, and threatened everyone within a five mile radius. Lisa brandishing her gun got him to back down a little, and then they used the light to fix him up. Immediately after that, he’d stormed off on his own without saying a word to anyone. 

Barry tried to follow, but Mick had put a hand on his arm. 

“Let him go.”

“But - ”

Mick’s nose was still bleeding freely; he was ignoring all of Caitlin’s attempts to set it. “I’ve known Snart since you were in diapers. Trust me. This is one bruise you don’t wanna poke.”

It went against the grain, but Mick was right. Len wasn’t like Barry, who preferred to be surrounded when he was processing bad things. Len’s gut reaction was to isolate himself and ice it all over, which was probably unhealthy, but he wouldn’t thank Barry for intruding. With reluctance, Barry had left him to it.

He was sitting in the pipeline with his head in his hands when Len came back to him. Barry heard the sound of footsteps approaching, and then he felt someone lowering themselves down to his level with a low hiss of pain. Taking a deep breath, he looked up.

Len was a mess. Mick’s attempts to restrain him had left him with a mashed up face, one side of which was just one big bruise. He looked like an extremely battered piece of fruit. His jaw was swelling up, and there were dark circles underneath his eyes like two crescent moons. He had a split lip, still a little crusty with blood, and his knuckles were skinned. He shifted gingerly closer to Barry, who knocked his knee lightly against Len’s to show him that he wasn’t mad.

“So I guess we’re even now, huh,” he said.

“Don’t joke,” Len snapped.

Barry looked away. He wanted Len to hold him, but he was kind of afraid to ask.

Hesitant fingers grazed the logo on his chest, making Barry startle. Underneath the suit, his skin was still sensitive. Caitlin had checked it out and assured him there would be no lasting damage, his body already midway through repairs, but that didn’t mean it didn’t hurt.

“Show me,” Len said.

“I - ”

“Show. Me.”

There was no use arguing with him. Sighing, Barry unzipped the suit and let it peel away from his shoulders, exposing his upper torso to the air. He shivered a little as the cold air hit his skin, goosebumps already rising. 

The frostbite on his chest was fading, but his skin was still discoloured, patchy in places. Some parts of it were an angry reddish purple, others were still slate grey and flaky. Caitlin had helped to thaw him out, in a similar fashion to how she had dealt with Mardon, but the place where the cold blast was most concentrated still looked ugly. Len reached out to touch it, but Barry flinched away. The feel of his suit rubbing against it was bad enough.

Len licked his lips. “I...hurt you.”

“It wasn’t you,” Barry said softly. “It was Biovolo.”

“It was me,” Len said. He swallowed. “I’ve been carrying a weapon designed to hurt you specifically. The person I love the most...my gun was built for you. I never thought I cared about that. But I turned it on you. I could have killed you.”

Barry gave a small smile. “Still alive and kicking.”

“Thanks to Mick and Lisa. Not me.”

As much as he would have liked to argue, Barry knew that it wouldn’t do any good. Not so long ago he’d been in Len’s position himself, hearing other people justify the awful things he’d done, knowing that he didn’t deserve their excuses. Nodding, he looked at his feet.

“I owe you an apology.”

“No, Len, you don’t need to - ”

“Shut up, Scarlet. I’m terrible enough at this as it is, without you interrupting.”

Barry gave a small smile. “Sorry.”

Reaching out, Len took his hands. Unusually, his fingers were clammy. “When...when this happened to you, and you were so cut up about it, I thought you were just being a martyr. I didn’t realise… now I’ve seen it from the other side of things, I understand. I always thought that because you didn’t hurt me of your own volition that there was no reason for you to feel guilty about it. I gave you my forgiveness. I didn’t think to give you my compassion on top of that.” Len shrugged one shoulder. “This feels...awful. I know I would never have hurt you if it weren’t for that bastard. Doesn’t change the fact that I did it. Your blood on my hands. And I enjoyed it, I wanted to hurt you more. I remember that.”

“Yeah,” Barry said quietly. He remembered, too. Not so clearly, now, his memory tempered by the revulsion he felt at the idea of anything happening to Len - but at the time, the urge to hurt him had been so intense. Overwhelming. “It sucks.”

“I said terrible things. I...I didn’t mean them.”

“Yeah, you did.” Barry gave him a faint smile. “A small part of you did. Maybe you weren’t aware of it before now. Biovolo has a horrible power. He dredges up all the ugly parts of you, all the feelings you’re ashamed of. His power feeds off your hate. So once upon a time, you did mean them. There’s no shame in feeling things, even if they’re awful. We’re all human, we all think terrible thoughts from time to time. But if there’s one thing he taught me, it’s that you have to work through them. You can’t just let them sit there.” It took him a moment to muster the courage, but he said eventually, “I never realised you felt that way. About...me getting struck by lightning.”

“I was angry,” Len admitted. “The way I saw it, I gave up a lot for you. My entire life up until then was always about surviving. Stealing. That was the only way I knew how to get by. If it weren’t for you being in that apartment, I’d never have stuck it out being on the straight and narrow for as long as I did… it felt like I gave up everything I was for you and then you just… left me.” He laughed bitterly. “Like it was your fault. That wasn’t fair.”

“You can’t help how you feel.” Barry licked his lips. “The guy you beat up… you never told me about that.”

“I try not to think about it.”

“Was he....did he die?”

“I don’t know,” Len admitted. “He didn’t even look that much like you, really. It was stupid. Mick and I went out on a job. You were lying in a hospital bed and I couldn’t take it. So we ran out to rob this museum in another city. The guy was a security guard, and he must have cared about his job. I kicked his ass, but he tried to radio for help. So I kicked the shit out of him.”

Barry was silent. He could imagine it all too well, having seen that ugly look on his face. Knowing that Len was Captain Cold and seeing him in action were two utterly different things. All the times he’d imagined how it might look to see Len pull down that icy facade and start hurting people had paled in comparison to the sinking feeling he got in his stomach when he saw the rage on Len’s face.

“I never called an ambulance before,” Len said. “Not for someone I beat up, anyway. Never really cared enough. But that guy didn’t deserve to die because I was having a bad night. And I knew you would be horrified, if you knew what I’d done. So I called 911. I have no idea if he made it. I never thought I’d care...but sometimes, when I look at you, I think about it. And I do.”

Swallowing, Barry rested his head on Len’s shoulder. Len slipped an arm around his waist and they sat like that for a while, Barry feeling his heartbeat even out. The pain in his chest was receding. Now, he was a little sore, but mostly just wrung out. He wanted to run home with Len and slip into bed, pull the covers over their head and just breathe. Lie there and wait for it to all be over.

But they couldn’t, while Wells was still out there. Not for a moment.

“I love you,” he said, “but it’s not me you need to apologise to. It’s Lisa.”

Len tensed.

“You and I know what it’s like to be a victim of Biovolo,” Barry said. “From both sides. Lisa only has my word for it. Those things you said to her… they were far worse than what you said to me.”

“I was a kid,” Len said. “Kids are selfish.”

“They’re supposed to be. You never had the chance. Maybe that’s why you’re kind of a selfish adult.”

Len elbowed him in the ribs. “Thanks.”

Barry smirked. “Just telling it like it is.” He grew serious again. “Those things you said to Lisa really hurt her. Whether you meant them or not doesn’t matter. You need to go apologise.”

“I know. I...haven’t got the guts.” Len looked away. “I faced off against three metahumans without flinching but the prospect of talking to my sister scares the shit out of me.”

“Welcome to my world.”

“You’re sure there aren’t any bloodthirsty metas I can fight first?”

“I think this is probably something you should get over and done with. We need Lisa on our side. Wells is gonna come for us soon, and we need all the hard hitters we can get.”

“She’s on your side, even if she isn’t on mine. Sometimes I think she likes you better than me.”

“Well. You’re sort of an asshole.”

“You didn’t much like my gun in your face; how would you feel about it going up your ass instead?” Len enquired.

Grinning, Barry patted him on the cheek. “Maybe later.” 

Getting to his feet, he held a hand out to Len to help him up. Len took it, grimacing as he stood. The way he moved concerned Barry; he was like an old clockwork toy that had been wound up one too many times. In the sickly light of the pipeline, his bruises stood out lividly on his puffy face.

“Maybe you should sit this one out,” Barry said. “Wells is dangerous. I’m not sure you should be around him in this state.”

“I have the cold gun,” Len pointed out, “which, as we just found out, is not much fun for a speedster. What I did to you was just a little tickle.”

Barry chewed his lip. He had Oliver on call and Ronnie and Stein on their way. Lisa and Mick would probably be game to help out, too. More than enough. But he wanted Len at his side during this. As he had mentioned, the cold gun was an invaluable asset and no one knew it like Len did, not even Mick. They swapped every now and then, gaining familiarity with each other’s weapons, but that didn’t change the fact that the cold gun was an extension of Len’s arm. He knew exactly what made it tick. And if they kept him out of sight, Wells might come looking for him to use as leverage. Having him out in the field would give Barry heart palpitations for the whole night, but at least he could keep an eye on him.

“I love you,” Barry said, “and I trust you. If you say you can handle it… I have to accept that you can handle it. But we’re gonna have to work as a team out there. If we can’t all work together, we’re lost. Wells will be relying on us being disjointed; we need to all attack as a single unit. Can you handle that?”

“I won’t punch Queen until he’s stuck Wells full of arrows,” Len promised.

Barry had to laugh. “Please try not to punch him at all. Oliver is going through a whole lot of crap with the League of Assassins. You might not survive the encounter.”

“Trust me, I can take that bow-wielding broccoli floret any day,” Len said. “I’m ready, Barr. After what Biovolo did to me, I’m in the mood for a fight. I can take anything they throw at me.”

Barry nodded. “Then shall we go get us a speedster?”

Len smirked. “I thought you’d never ask.”

~*~

They were all in the cortex when Wells made his grand entrance. Alarms started caterwauling, and they all crowded around the computer screen to watch the man walk straight through the gates, bold as brass.

“Son of a bitch,” said Barry. 

“We got him,” Len said. “Is everybody in position?”

“We’re ready,” Caitlin said. “Go get him.”

Barry took a deep breath, grabbed Len by the shoulder and sped for the exit.

They stopped mere metres away from Wells, Barry breathing hard. He pulled his cowl up; Len, hood already in position, settled comfortably into a ready stance, gun at the ready. Pausing, Wells regarded them with an overconfident smile.

“Ah, Mr Allen. Mr. Snart. Together as always, I see.” He cocked his head. “Until the end.”

“There’s only going to be one ending tonight,” and that’s yours,” snarled Len.

Wells grinned. “Ah, there’s that infuriating self-confidence that I so despise.” His gaze shifted to Barry. “I’m only going to give you one warning: unless you wish to see your lover lying on the ground with my fist through his chest, I suggest you send him away. I’m not in the mood to be lenient.”

“I’m not afraid of you!” shouted Barry.

“Convincing. But I’m afraid you’re forgetting something: I know you. I have been watching you for a very long time, Barry Allen. I have been privy to your every waking moment, from your petty squabbles to your most intimate conversations. I have personally acted as your confidant, listened to you pour your little heart about all your darkest fears… and that is how I know that you aren’t just afraid of me.” His smile grew. “You’re terrified.

“You can’t defeat me, Barry. You will never be as fast as I am, no matter how hard you try. I killed your mother. I framed your father - though, laughably easy as it was, it’s barely worthy of the boast. You were as powerless to stop me then as you are now. I am going to kill Mr. Snart. Then, I’m going to kill Cisco, and Caitlin, and Joe, and Iris, and everyone else you hold dear, and when I am standing on a pile of the people you care for the most, and you still aren’t fast enough to stop me… perhaps that is when you will lose all fear of me. Because you will have nothing else to lose.”

Barry’s voice shook, but he forced himself to look Wells in the eyes. “You’re right. You are faster than I am. I can’t defeat you… but there’s one thing you haven’t considered.”

“I have considered everything.”

“No,” said Barry. “There’s something you’re forgetting. You’re alone… and we aren’t.”

At that exact moment, Firestorm dropped from the sky like a torch, sparks flying in their wake. They landed at Barry’s side, the heat from their flames licking his exposed skin. He turned slightly and they nodded at him, before holding out their hands, fire roaring between their fingers.

A split-second later, an arrow hissed overhead. They all looked up, watching as Oliver flew in on a zipwire - and when he dropped, landing at Len’s left flank, he already had a fresh arrow nocked and pointed at Wells. Moments later, Mick and Lisa emerged from the shadows, their own guns at the ready - and all of them focused on Wells, ready to shoot.

Wells had the gall to laugh at them.

“Oh,” he said, pulling up his cowl. “Now this should be interesting.”

“You could defeat any one of us easily,” Barry shouted. “But you can’t defeat all six.”

“Watch me,” said Wells, and flew at Barry.

Barry ran to meet him, yelling as lightning crackled fiercely through his body. The speedforce sang with satisfaction as the two of them collided; Barry landed a beautiful punch that snapped Wells’ head backwards, and Wells countered with a vicious jab to the stomach that sent him reeling. They launched forwards over and over, connecting for long enough to exchange a flurry of blows each time before separating. It was almost a dance, and one in which Wells was far better at keeping time. The longer they fought, the more easily he seemed to evade Barry’s attacks, weaving in and out of his fists, dodging punches and landing hit after hit. His fist crunched off Barry’s ribs; gloved fingers raked Barry’s cheek, and then Wells kicked at his ankle and he almost fell. Furiously, he threw himself at the man and they grappled again. Wells was older, but he was also more well-built and just as tall. Gaining an advantage was near impossible. Frustration made Barry howl, throwing a series of punches which Wells caught with ease.

He was only dimly aware of his friends behind him, moving so slowly that they were barely noticeable. The sounds of their voices were distorted, stretched so slowly through the seconds that he barely understood - until he heard his name dragged at an agonising pace through Len’s lips, and real time came rushing back in a flood.

“Move, Barry!”

Wells hurled Barry away from him just as Len fired. In the nick of time, Wells avoided the blast and ran at Len, who advanced on him, still shooting with a snarl carved into his face. He was flanked by Mick and Lisa, who were firing their own weapons with gusto, and all the while Oliver shot arrows into the fray.

Wells started whirling his arms and a wind tunnel blasted all three of the Rogues off their feet, leaving Oliver the only one standing. Jaw set, he continued to shoot until Wells slammed into him, sending him skidding across the parking lot, and that was when Firestorm grabbed Wells by the back of his suit and yanked him off his feet, flying skyward. 

Barry struggled to his feet and ran to Oliver, shaking him hard. “Oliver!”

Oliver’s face was grazed horribly, beads of blood springing up on his cheek. His mouth was bloody and his stubble flecked with gravel, but he pushed himself back up, already fitting another arrow to the string. “Go!”

Shooting off in pursuit of Firestorm, Barry caught up just in time to see Wells phase, dropping from Firestorm’s grip. He managed to land on a parked car just in time and blasted straight past Barry, who barrelled after him, ignoring his friends’ cries.

He knew Wells was doing this on purpose, luring him out of reach of help. That didn’t matter; he couldn’t lose him. Putting everything he had into his speed, Barry ran so fast that glass exploded out of the windows of passing cars and buildings and the wind reduced all the noise around him to a jagged scream. Glancing over his shoulder, he was aware of Firestorm at a distance, desperately trying to keep up - but then he returned his attention to Wells, just in time for the man to spin around at dizzying speed and start flying straight for him. 

The impact was like two meteors slamming together. Grabbing Wells, Barry stayed on his feet by pure force of will, so dizzy from the collision that he was momentarily blinded. He continued to punch Wells over and over, forgetting finesse in favour of trying to hit the man as hard and as often as possible. 

A blazing inferno caught his eye; Firestorm had alighted on the sidewalk beside them and was gearing up to throw a fireball.

“Barry!”

Gasping, Barry dived clear. Wells attempted to dodge again and was only partially successful; the blast caught him in the ribs and sent him reeling, with a sooty smudge marring his suit. Growling, Wells clenched his fists. His eyes blazed vicious red - and then Firestorm grabbed the back of Barry’s suit and snatched him off his feet as they blasted into the sky, out of Wells’ reach.

“Thank you!” Barry shouted, legs kicking in empty air.

“No problem!” Ronnie shouted. “Might I suggest you don’t get yourself separated next time? Kind of eliminates the whole teamwork thing!”

“Got it!” 

With that, Firestorm flew back towards S.T.A.R Labs, arching through the sky like a comet. Below, Barry could see the blur of Wells pursuing them, darting across the rooftops in a blaze of red light.

They landed in the centre of the S.T.A.R Labs parking lot, where Len, Lisa and Mick were all back to back, scanning the area. Barry sped to their side and put his back to theirs; moments later, Firestorm joined them, and the heat from their flames seared through Barry’s suit. Mick’s eyes brightened, and he cast Firestorm an admiring glance over his shoulder before returning his attention to the empty lot.

“Thought I’d lost you,” Len said.

“You wish,” said Barry, squeezing his wrist. He raised his voice. “Guys, we got incoming!” He glanced around. “Wait, where’s Oliver?”

At that precise moment, Len, Mick and Lisa all stepped forwards. Len dragged Barry with him, and Firestorm hastily jumped out of the way just as Oliver landed in their midst, bow at the ready.

“Show off,” grumbled Mick. 

“Duck!” bellowed Oliver.

Time slowed. Barry grabbed Len by the shoulders and forced him down; spun and shoved Mick, yanked Lisa to the ground by the back of her jacket. He could see Wells running at them full pelt. Oliver had already drawn the string taut. Just as Barry dragged Firestorm out of harm’s way, Oliver loosed the arrow.

Time resumed normal speed. The arrow sang through the air, Oliver’s aim true. It sank into Wells’ muscled thigh and he staggered to a stop, already yanking it free. Barry saw that it was metallic, and more bulky than a usual arrow; distorted around the middle. Wells dropped the arrow, his eyes glowing furious red.

“Nanites!” Oliver shouted across the lot. “Courtesy of a friend of mine. They’re emitting a high-frequency pulse that disables your speed!”

“You wouldn’t happen to have any more of those, would you?” Len asked, picking himself up off the ground. “I could use tech like that in the bedroom.”

“ _ Len _ . Really?” said Barry.

Len shrugged. “Sometimes I just don’t have the energy to handle you.”

Mick laughed, dusting himself down. Lisa just shook her head, gun still trained on Wells. 

It was just as well; the speedster began to vibrate, phasing through the nanites. A flurry of black specks poured off him like mist, a sandstorm of miniature robots. 

Barry didn’t give him time to finish phasing. He ran at Wells, threw a punch which, miraculously, connected. Wells went sprawling and Barry went with him, punching for all he was worth. He grabbed Wells by the cowl and slammed his head against the asphalt, imagined Wells’ skull cracking like an egg and that gigantic brain of his spreading across the floor. 

Grabbing his wrist, Wells tried to hold him off, snarling like an animal. He bucked, threw Barry off and then was on top of him, trying to throttle him. 

There was an angry buzz and another arrow buried itself between Wells’ shoulderblades, this one just an ordinary missile. Roaring, Wells backhanded Barry across the face, and that was when Ronnie threw a fireball and sent him sprawling.

Wells grunted, pushed himself up on one hand - but Len was already marching over, his expression cold.

“There’s only one person who gets to choke the Flash, whether that’s inside of the bedroom or out of it. And that person is me.”

He swung his gun like a baseball bat, slamming it directly into Wells’ skull. 

The man went down hard, and even as he crumpled Barry was flipping him over and snapping the cuffs around his wrists. Quickly, he checked Wells’ pulse. It was speedster-quick, but unmistakably there. His own heart racing equally fast, he tugged Wells’ cowl down to reveal his hair, flattened and damp with sweat. It was curly, he realised. He’d never really noticed that before. It made the man seem strangely young.

Len squatted beside Wells and pressed his gun almost lovingly to the centre of the man’s chest, directly over his heart.

“We got him,” Barry said blankly. “I don’t believe it. We actually got him.”

“Let’s kill him,” said Mick, looming over them.

“What? No!”

“Do it, Lenny,” said Lisa. “He deserves it.”

For a moment, Len was motionless, staring down at Wells’ slack expression. 

“ _ Len, _ ” Barry said desperately.

Len looked Barry in the eye for a moment that went on for far too long. Then, he stood, holstering his gun.

“He’s all yours, Scarlet."

Mick and Lisa made sounds of outrage, but Barry barely heard them. He was flooded with such intense relief that his head swam.

“Thank you,” he said. “Thank you.” 

Gingerly, he grabbed Wells by the wrist. When the man didn’t even stir, Barry carefully prodded his cheek, even gave him a light slap, every second expecting a hand to come flying at him. There was no response. 

“I think he’s out.”

“I’ll keep an eye on him while you get him inside,” Oliver said. “Last thing we need is to lose him now.”

“Amen to that,” said Firestorm, and promptly separated in a blizzard of flame and sparks. 

Dusting himself down, Professor Stein said, “Where exactly is it that you intend to keep him? As I understand it, your usual facility is… somewhat volatile at the moment.”

“Only because Wells made it that way. Whatever it was he was doing down there, he wasn’t able to finish it.” Barry looked down at Wells. “We got you,” he said. “We  _ got you, _ asshole.”

“Let’s get him inside,” said Oliver, putting a hand on Barry’s back. “There’ll be plenty of time to gloat about it later. C’mon.”

Barry slung Wells over his shoulders. With Oliver walking behind him, an arrow nocked and aimed between Wells’ closed eyes, he walked back into S.T.A.R Labs like Atlas, shouldering every single one of his problems and finding that the cause of them all was nowhere near as heavy as he’d anticipated.

~*~

Len watched Barry depart with Wells dangling over his shoulders like the world’s weirdest backpack. The sight of Wells inert and completely at their mercy stoked a pleasant fire in his belly - until it was suddenly extinguished by Mick Rory punching him hard in the shoulder, whilst Lisa slapped the other arm. Assaulted on both sides, Len glared from face to face.

“What the hell, Lenny?” demanded Lisa. “What the hell is wrong with you?”

“I told you,” said Mick. “He’s gone soft.”

Not in the mood for their bullshit, Len whipped a knife out of his pocket and jammed it against the underside of Mick’s jaw. He wasn’t the biggest fan of knives - too messy - but it had the desired effect. Mick’s pulse jumped against the blade. Eyes narrowing, he fell silent.

“Do I look soft to you?” Len asked in a low voice.

“You look like the guy who just let a  _ killer  _ go loose,” Lisa hissed. “He is dangerous. He tried to kill you. Since when is that something you let slide?”

“Who says I’m letting it slide?”

“The fact that you had your gun against his chest and nothing standing in your way, and you let him go.” Lisa gave him the worst look she was capable of. “Start talking, or I’m gonna start stomping.”

Wearing far more sensible footwear - a pair of sneakers she’d borrowed from Caitlin - this threat was less formidable than when she wore her usual stilettos, but he had no desire to have his baby sister try to crush his metatarsals. 

“We need him.”

“What for? You already got one pet speedster,” growled Mick.

“We need a confession.” Letting the knife leave his partner’s throat, Len stowed it back inside his jacket. “A little over a decade ago, that man broke into a cute little suburban house on a cute little suburban street and decided to murder a doctor’s wife. Nora Allen. Her husband was caught with her blood all over his hands and he went to jail for her murder. All his life, Barry’s been trying to get his old man out of the can. I’m not so trigger-happy that I’m gonna kill off his one chance at making that happen.”

Mick scoffed. “Screw the confession. Break him out.”

“Can’t do that. He’d be on the run for the rest of his life. Barry can run through walls, Mick; if it were that easy, he would have broken him out ages ago. We get him out the legal way, or we may as well not bother at all.”

“He’s not going to confess,” said Lisa. “There’s no way that’s gonna benefit him. I wouldn’t do it, and we all know I’m a lot nicer than some freak in a yellow gimp suit.”

Len shrugged. “Maybe he isn’t. But if I kill him now and Barry never gets the chance to try for a confession, he’ll never forgive me. Right now, Wells is contained. That’s enough for me… for now.”

“You’re whipped, Snart,” said Mick. “If it was me, I’d make him pay.”

“Trust me,” said Len, looking at the S.T.A.R Labs building at the end of the lot, where all the lights were blazing. “I intend to.”


End file.
